Sire's Verdad
by AprilRyn
Summary: This is another modernization of a Oedipus Rex passage. One-shot, unless I get enough requests. This time it has a Politician! Way more humorous than the first one. Brief reference to the sanity of the characters. AND there's a Peon. Yes. a Peon.


_**Sire's Verdad**_

A/N: This is another one of my scripts for english, because I had to do another one... Due to unfortunate circumstances... Anyway, this one takes place in a different setting, and is a different passage of Oedipus Rex. It's another modernization! This one is entirely made by me alone. No group. Nada. This time there is a Peon! Yes, a _Peon_!

Once again, Oedipus Rex and all its characters are owned creatively by Sophocles and not me. The only stuff I own are the changes I made to the original text/names, and the _man_-_eating_ dust bunnies underneath my bed.

Oh, and in this one, Tiresias is back to a male gender. (lol genderbending!)

Things in (parentheses) and_ italics _are the mood/feeling.

Hope you like!

(If you want a smaller sample of my work, go to my story: _**Rex's Downfall**_)

~~Ryn

_SiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruth_

**RATED T**

_SiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruthSiretruth_

Synopsis:

**Oedipus known as Sire, Creon as Cray, Chorus as Crowd, Leader as Peon, and Jocasta as Jasta are trying to get to the bottom of the prophet's speech and what it may or may not implicate. Sire has scheduled a press conference, being the governor of Thebes, to see if he can interpret the vague ramblings of the prophet. He ends up arguing in front of the crowd with Cray, and it almost becomes violent. After the death threat on Cray's life, Cray's sister Jasta steps in to try and calm her husband and brother so that they do not create a scene in front of a state wide audience. Sire eventually reluctantly agrees with the crowd and his wife that he should just let Cray go without punishment.**

_(Crowd enters solemnly below the podium, looking around with slight fear.)_

Crowd: _Who_ is the man that the gods curse so _violently_? It's too horrible to think about. Whose _ruthless_, _bloody_ hands were they? Well, _god_ will get him. There is _nowhere_ left to hide. He will try to run, but it is _useless_. He will live in _terror_ until his surrender.

Sire's prophet gives me the _creeps_! I can't believe what he's said, yet I can't deny it either. I'm at a loss as to what to say. I'm _so_ lost, and can't _imagine_ what will come next…How is Sire related to Laius at all? I don't know, I can't think of _anything_ that would prove him guilty. I will _not_ falsely accuse Sire without cause, not even for the _ghost of Laius_.

The gods know. But as to whether or not a seer can know more than a normal man we will probably never find out. I will _never_ accuse my leader without proof. _Never_...

_(Cray enters onto the podium, his features relaxed and smooth. He addresses the growing Crowd.)_

Cray: _(jovial/joking mood) _Good people of Thebes, I hear that good Sire is _accusing_ me. I had to come, and I am a tad _resentful_. If he thinks that I've somehow _insulted_ him in any way, if I've _offended_ him, then I have no reason to go on living, with my reputation in _shambles_. The injury I'd face from the accusation is in no way simple. There's nothing _worse_, branded a _traitor_ of this city, to all of you _wonderful_ people.

_(Peon comes forward timidly, addressing Cray with only his eyes.)_

Peon: _(Hesitantly starts to speak) _

Yes, but some of what he said might have just been the anger of the moment talking…

Cray: _(looks confused) _

He said it _publicly_, didn't he? That _I_ told the prophet to lie?

Peon: _(He's reluctant to speak, looking down towards the floor)_

_Things_ were said… Though I don't know his intention with them…. Or if there even _was_ one…

Cray: Was he in his right mind when he _accused_ me?

Peon: I _really wouldn't know_. I'm not the type to _question_ the _actions_ and _words_ of _leaders_.

_(Peon notices Sire and smiles softly in his direction.)_

Speak of the devil, here he is now.

_(Sire enters—noting the presence of Cray—gradually beginning to fume in the process.)_

Sire: _You're_ here?! You'd _dare_ to show your face to me, and this _city_? _You're_ plotting my _downfall_! Then you'll _steal_ my _title_! What do you take me for, an _idiot_? You think I never would have found out? You're a _fool_, lacking the _power_ and _riches_ to bring _me_ down!

Cray: _(About to roll his eyes at his younger brother-in-law, he interrupts.)_

You done? It's _your_ turn to listen, for just as long as you… _Lectured_ me. Hear me out, _then _decide on a verdict.

Sire: _(He frowns, gathering a spiteful tone.)_

You're _smooth_ Creon, but I won't listen to _you_. You're a _menace_, nothing but a _**burden**_.

Cray: _(He begins to use a more reverent tone, feeling at risk for being subject to extreme rage.)_

Just hear me out. _Please_.

_(Sire holds out his hand in a signal to stop, and pinches the bridge of his nose with his left index finger and thumb)_

Sire: Just one minute, _don't_ say you're _'not the enemy'_.

Cray: If you think being _stubborn_ is a good quality, you've _lost_ it.

Sire: If you think you can mess with a _kinsman_ and get away with it, then _you've_ lost it.

Cray: True enough, but this _crime_ you accuse me of, _what_ is it?

_(Sire pauses, thoughtful in a response.)_

Sire: Did you tell me—yes or no—to send for that _prophet_?

Cray: Yeah… and I'd do it again.

Sire: Ok, then _tell_ me, how long has it been since… _Laius_…

Cray: _Laius_? What did _he_ do?

Sire: _Vanished_…_Disappeared_… _Murdered_ with no trace.

Cray: It's been many years…

Sire: …Being so long ago, was the prophet a _prophet_ then?

Cray: Just as skilled then as he is now, and just as famous.

Sire: Did he ever _say_ something about me, at that time?

Cray: No, _never_, at least when _I_ was with him.

Sire: But you did _investigate_ the murder, right?

Cray: We tried our hardest, though we discovered nothing.

Sire: So the great _seer_ never accused me then—_Why_?

Cray: I don't know. When this is the case, I stay _quiet_ with my _opinions_.

Sire: But you _do_ know... You'd say _something_. That is, if you had a shred of _morality_.

Cray: _Huh_? If I knew, I'd say something.

Sire: Just this: if you two had never _schemed_ together, We'd have never heard about my _killing spree._

Cray: If that's what he _said_… Well, _you_ know best. Now _I_ have the right to hear from _you_ as _you_ just heard from _me_.

Sire: Hear what you want, you'll _never_ prove I _murdered_ Laius.

Cray: Tell me something, you're _married_ to my _sister_, aren't you?

Sire: _(Rolls his eyes at Cray.)_

Wow. You are a _master_ of deductions!

Cray: _(He continues, ignoring Sire's comment.)_

So you rule along _with_ her, with _equal_ power?

Sire: She gets _whatever_ she asks from me.

Cray: So am I the _third_, are we all _equal_?

Sire: Yeah, and look how you show your_ loyalty_. You _betray_ a _kinsman_.

Cray: To the _contrary_, not if you think _rationally_ like I do. Look at it like this: _Who_ in their right mind would rather have a position of _power_ and live with _stress_, than _sleep_ in _peace_? _Especially_ if he has the _same_ amount of authority? I sure don't. Not when I already have the power in my grasp. Who would? I have all I need _without_ the burden! I'm not _that_ crazy. _Why_ would I give that up? Nope, I don't have the motivation for _mutiny_. It's just not my style. Want proof? Go to Delphi and talk to the oracle. We'll see what happens after _that_.

Peon: _(Enters the conversation carefully.)_

Good idea, for anyone who wants to _avoid_ disaster. We shouldn't jump to conclusions.

Sire: _(Distractedly)_

I must move swiftly, otherwise my _enemy—_

_(Gestures to Cray)_

will get the better of me. I lose, he wins.

Cray: _What_? You want to _banish_ me?

Sire: _No_… I want you _dead_.

Cray: _(He sighs in exasperation.)_

_Just goes to show…_

Sire: _(He's taken aback by Cray's nonchalant reaction)_

You don't think I'm _serious_?

Cray: I think _you're_ off your _rocker_.

Sire: I'll have you know, _I _still possess _sanity_.

Cray: Just not so sure about _me_?

Sire: Heh. _You_—my _enemy_?

Cray: What if you're wrong?

Sire: No problem. I _rule_.

Cray: Not if you're going to be _unfair_ about it.

Sire: Can you _hear_ him, my city of Thebes?

Cray: _(He grumbles)_

It's _my_ city too you know…

Peon: _(Trying to restore peace to the two men.)_

_Please_, gentlemen.

_(Jasta enters warily)_

_Look_, Jasta's coming—just in time—and with her help, you can resolve this _petty_ argument.

Jasta: _(She sees the two men's expressions, and her jaw drops in stupefied awe.)_

Have you both _lost_ it? Poor guys, so _loud_! What's with the _public_ _scene_? You two should be _ashamed_.

_(She addresses Sire:)_

Come now, go inside. Cray, go home. Why have such a _hissy_-_fit_ over nothing?

Cray: _(Gains the mentality of a picked on younger sibling.)_

Sister, it's _horrible_… Sire, your husband, he's _determined_ to punish me falsely, using his favorites; _Banishment_ or _death_.

_(Sarcastically) _

I just don't know _which_ one to choose! So _appealing_!

Sire: _Exactly_. I caught him red handed. He was going to _stab_ me in the back.

Cray: _Never_! _Curse_ me, let me _suffer_ and _wail_ in agony if I've done _anything_ that you accuse me of.

Jasta: _(She's frustrated with their childish antics.)_

_Jesus_, Sire, hear his oath. He's _swearing_ to heaven! _Please_ believe it, if not for me, then for your people.

_(Crowd begins to chant)_

Crowd: _Believe_ him! _Please_, we _beg_ you!

Sire: _What_ do you _want_? _Concessions_?!

Crowd: _Respect_ him—he hasn't gone wrong in the past, and now he's _adamant_ in his oath to god.

Sire: Do you _know_ what you're asking?

Crowd: We do.

Sire: Then _tell_ me!

Crowd: He's your _best_ _friend_, your _family_, he's _under_ _oath_—don't _reject_ him, _disgrace_ him based on _rumor_!

Sire: If that is what _you_ really want, then you want _me_ _dead_ or _banished_!

Crowd: _Never_! Let us all suffer _horribly_ if that _ever_ crossed our minds! But we are weary from other stress, and now you give us _this_ to suffer under. _Both_ of you are to blame.

Sire: _(With an air of sarcasm.)_

_Great_! Then let him free! Doesn't matter if it _kills_ me! I only pity _you_, not _him_—your words move me. My hate will follow him wherever he goes.

Cray: _(He possesses an almost mocking tone.)_

_Look_ at you! You have the appearance of a _kicked_ _puppy_ at the _thought_ of defeat, and a _vicious_ guard dog in your rage. One day you'll push it. Perfect justice: inflicting pain mostly on _yourself_.

Sire: Go _away_, get _OUT!_

Cray: I'm going. You are _so_ wrong. Everyone knows I'm right.

_(Cray exits with a egotistical air, Crowd turns to Jasta in disbelief)_

Crowd: _Why_ are you doing _nothing_ to help him?

Jasta: _First_ tell me what's happened.

Crowd: _Foolish_ arguing started _foul_ suspicions, and _injustice_ cut deeply.

Jasta: _Both_ sides of the argument?

Crowd: Yep.

Jasta: What did they talk about?

Crowd: _Please_, stop! We're already so damaged, or so it seems… End it here, where they stopped.

Sire: See what comes of your _good_ _intentions_? All because you wanted to _calm_ me.

Crowd: We said it once, we'll say it again. We'd be _insane_ to even _think_ about betraying you. You _saved_ us once before! _Please_ deliver us from this hardship!

_(Crowd draws away, leaving Sire and Jasta forlornly side by side at the podium)_


End file.
